


Just a Batter of Time

by january_sunshine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Baking, Birthday Cake, Gen, Happy Birthday Victor Nikiforov, Implied Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek has felt true exhaustion, This Is A Disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9075424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/january_sunshine/pseuds/january_sunshine
Summary: "Otabek? Are you any good with baking cakes?"
"Cakes?" Otabek had inquired, fork held midway between his bowl and his mouth. He reluctantly lowered it. He was hungry. "Well... I'm unable to make one from scratch, but I can follow instructions." He thought that was the end of it.
But, given the disaster that lay before him, three hours later in the kitchen on Christmas eve, he was not nearly that lucky.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a true story.

It was truly a disaster from the start. Otabek stood helplessly in the kitchen as Yuri stared between the piece of cake on the display tray and the remainder still in the baking tray. Otabek was never much of a _cuisinier_ in his own right, his talents lying more in the form of skating and his motorcycle--but even then, he wouldn't call his harsh cycling a talent as much as he would a hobby--but the night had brought him to a new low.

That new low was called Yuri Katsuki.

So a mix-up on arrival and time zones and losing track of time had turned a smooth arrival to Japan into a five-hour cross-city commute, and, feeling jetlagged and a little discouraged, Otabek had wanted nothing more than to relax in these famed onsens and curl up in a warm bed to sleep away the day. Yuri Plisetsky, his increasingly disgruntled travel partner, had stumbled off to the baths mid-dinner, Victor scurrying off to give him the grand tour, which had left Otabek alone with the Japanese male.

And that was when the question had been proposed:

"Otabek? Are you any good with baking cakes?"

"Cakes?" Otabek had inquired, fork held midway between his bowl and his mouth. He reluctantly lowered it. He was _hungry_. "Well... I'm unable to make one from scratch, but I can follow instructions." He thought that was the end of it.

But, given the disaster that lay before him, three hours later in the kitchen on Christmas eve, he was not nearly that lucky. Of course not. Otabek was _never_  that lucky. Had he pissed off a god sometime between two days or today that cursed him to such a rocky, reluctant fate? Had he trespassed against an animal to bring about the wrath of the _Shaitan_? Probably not _that_  serious, but he sure did feel as though he had. He sighed heavily, phone in his hand as he took a video of the disaster the two had somehow created and sent it to Plisetsky's phone for tomorrow's entertainment.

The actual baking part had been extremely simple. The box had instructions printed in both Japanese and English along with pictures, and it had been quite easy to follow. Butter, cake batter, eggs, milk. Stirring, whisking. Texture. The consistency was slightly watery, but not terribly so. And, from accidentally (except, if he were honest to himself, there was no accident involved) dipping a finger into the batter, it was sweet. They'd poured it into the pan directly and set it to rest inside a preheated oven.

Otabek had found himself a surprise when he caught Yuri with a finger along the bowl himself, stealing a taste of the batter for himself.

"My mom-- I just--" the older man began, but Otabek shook his head. In response, he merely reached a hand in as well. The two shared soft laughter and quietly cleared the bowl. Cake batter isn't quite the dessert he'd been hoping for, and especially not one deserving of sacrificing his early night of slumber and onsen relaxation, but it was a decent enough second. He could only hope that Yuri Plisetsky's demands that they find a coffee shop were met the next day, along with the hope that the airport would find his misplaced luggage.

Stifling a yawn behind his hand, Otabek observed as Yuri attempted to move the warm cake from the baking tin to the tray--

Well. That was a half-success had he ever seen one in the culinary world, as literally half--or something akin to what could be considered half--had broken apart and stumbled onto the tray. Shape-wise, the deposited bit reminded Otabek of Italy. His eyes widened.

"Oh no... o-oh no, oh no, Otabek, what do we do?"

The bespectacled skater looked on the verge of tears and panic, both hands trembling against the hold on the baking mits. The cake that had been so simple to begin had actually crumbled before them. Tears began to form, and Otabek truly had to wonder if destroying a cake was worth crying over. Then again, from what his small Russian comrade has told him, there were many things deemed worthy of tears for Yuri.

What did Victor see in him? Why was he subjecting himself to this?

Otabek's lips pursed tightly, and he narrowed the distance between the two in order to take the tray, setting it on the counter. He took another moment, glancing between the two pieces, trying to tune out Yuri as he whined himself into a panic. They had to fix the cake, somehow, before frosting it. His eyes scanned the counter, looking at the other supplies, and an idea hit him.

"Some cakes have a filling of sorts in the middle." He pointed to both pieces. It was _doable_. The Italy-shaped departure was still mostly solid, and they had an untouched can of Chocolate frosting to do with as needed. Yuri, taking a breath, looked at the pieces as well.

"You're right... Otabek, you're a genius. I'm so glad you're helping me with this."

The compliment made him uneasy, but he only nodded in acceptance, ripping open the can. A little too much frosting ended in the center, but it seemed enough to solidify their mess. With a bit of maneuvering, in which Yuri left the fate of this cake in Otabek's hands, they managed to gather the second half and flip it back into the original tray. A bit of pushing and adjusting, and it seemed to mostly fit.

It still looked a little odd, but... passable enough as a solid cake.

"We should just ice it thickly on top," Yuri suggested.

Otabek agreed with ease. He offered to do it, quite certain he would be of no help when it came to penmanship of frosting. With the small dessert spatula, Otabek scooped frosting onto the surface, smearing it around cautiously. As crumbles of the cake began to attach to the frosting, he merely added more. By the time he had a nice solid layer, he had used up half the can of chocolate.

"It's fine," Yuri assured him, looking up with a smile.

At least he believed in them.

"It looks fine. I think I can... handle the rest from here."

Otabek nodded. As he moved to the sink to wash his hands of the extra frosting, he watched as Yuri cut a small hole into a plastic bag and scoop frosting inside. "Oops..." A slight mistake, the hole was a little larger than planned, but it worked once the frosting poured onto the end. Otabek returned to his side, elbow on the counter as he watched him carefully pour frosting along the edge of the cake. It went smoothly enough.

"You don't think a... heart would be too much, would it?" Yuri asked as he moved it away.

Otabek shook his head. It seemed fine to him. And as Yuri attempted to draw the heart, he gasped as the frosting didn't stick as it should have. A momentary panic of what to do had the taller skater reaching for a spoon, using the back to urge the frosting back into place. It broke from the remainder in the bag, but enough that Yuri could try again with the other half. The lump seemed almost like a circle, or a strange corner, but it... looked almost like a heart.

They tilted their heads, shared glances, and declared it close enough. He continued writing. _V_ , slowly and cautiously now... _I_... _T_...

Glancing upward, Otabek looked at the time and tried not to grimace at the numbers staring back at him. Were he to add up the hours, he hadn't properly slept in over a day and a half, which included a painful amount of exhaustion settling deep into his bones as a fatigue of the day and too much social interaction muddled his thoughts for a moment. He considered skipping the onsen altogether that night in the hopes of merely passing out on the first horizontal, cushioned surface he was pointed to, already regretting nearly every minute of this trip.

It was supposed to be a winter workshop with Victor before New Years. Otabek was certain he was merely dragged in as that disguise, as he's  _quite_  certain it was to celebrate Victor's birthday and Christmas instead. The airplane staff had misplaced his luggage, leaving him with nothing but his skate bag and a spare skating outfit in his carry on. They'd had to wait an hour for Victor and their host to realize they'd forgotten to get them. They'd been caught on a train that broke down. They'd been drizzled on. Yuri had tantrumed his way mid-dinner into an early bath.

Otabek was just _tired_. He'd wanted to skate, to rehearse, not to be dragged into... this.

Yuri's swear brought him back from his misery into noticing that his opponent had begun stumbling on the _A_. He took the spoon, assisting with maneuvering the frosting back to actually cross the A as it was supposed to.

And... done. Both sighed in relief. As an added measure, Otabek grabbed the sprinkles, shaking them evenly along the cake's surface. Whatever mistakes they'd made, and he's certain there were a lot, would be masked by the brightly colored additions.

He hadn't even placed the container down before he felt strong arms wrap around him in a hug. Yuri sounded, strangely, tearful. Otabek understood this; he too wished to cry. However, his own tears would have been based in fatigue as opposed to fear.

"Otabek, you're so kind, thank you so much!" Yuri looked up. His sentences were watery and harsh, and Otabek was certain at some point he stopped speaking English as well, or he had stopped listening. He wasn't sure which. "I'm just so grateful, helping me make this cake! We wanted to do something, but we just... I had no idea how to bake. I've never done this before, and when--"

Otabek's hand gently set on Yuri's shoulder, effectively hushing him. When he spoke, it was soft and even. "Katsuki. You're welcome. I am... glad I could help."

"Really?" His eyes watered more.

Otabek gave a soft shove, prying the man from him. "No. I'm tired. Where do I sleep?"

That startled Yuri out of his tears, and he fumbled a little with the cake's lid. Otabek assisted in setting the lid atop the tin, before both moved it into the other room. Covered, they were certain it wouldn't have any problems lasting through the next day. To be safe, he added a paper weight from the table onto the lid, to keep Maccachin from accessing it were he to escape early. To play it safe, Yuri took a note and scribbled something in Japanese, sticking it right on top.

"So they don't touch it," he explained. "Now, follow me here, I'll lead you to your room. But, really... thank you."

"It is fine."

What was even better than their late night activities, Otabek declared to himself once they reached the room, was that the bed was comfortable and Yuri promised not to have anyone bother him until at least lunch time. Otabek normally avoided sleeping in as much as he could... but today, he felt like he owed himself. After all, tomorrow was bound to be worse.

**Author's Note:**

> I have screencaps to prove it, but my friends' cake sure did look delicious.


End file.
